


Dave: clean up.

by Laylah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirty Talk, Domestic Kink, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6633151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dishes need doing. They're not the only thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dave: clean up.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doely/gifts).



You're not sure how ordinary kids know when it's time to do chores. At your house, the key is when the booby traps go missing. The washing machine will be suddenly empty of shuriken, or the path to the vacuum cleaner will have all the tripwires removed. Or, like today, the smuppets poised to meet a grisly end in the garbage disposal fuck off to parts unknown. So, time to do some dishes.

You're elbow-deep in sudsy water when something touches the back of your neck. You jump, spinning around, brandishing a fork—at nothing. Of course. Okay, cool, training and chore time can totally overlap.

It's really hard to stay vigilant and scrub crusty spaghettios off spoons at the same time. There's a touch to your lower back, then an instant of fingers through your hair, and nothing to show for it but the breeze by the time you can react.

"I know you're there," you say, and immediately dock yourself like twenty points for dumb horror movie dialogue. "What do you want, Bro."

Like it's ever that easy. He just _lurks_ , somewhere in the apartment, unseen, and eventually you have to go back to scrubbing. You know he's watching. You bend over the sink a little more than you have to, like maybe you think you're in a porno (you never know when you're in a porno). The next time he touches you—fingertips dragging up the back of your thigh—you try to hold in your reaction. You can play this cool.

You're putting a plate in the dish drainer when he grabs your ass. You nearly drop the stupid thing, pushing back instinctively into his hand, which is then instantly not there again. You take a few deep breaths and reach for the next one. Bro squeezes your dick and you sag against the sink, swearing as your hard-on moves from "strong potential" to "how YOU doin."

No, it's cool, you got this. You pick up a goddamn Old Spaghetti Factory souvenir glass and peer at the little colony outpost of fungi who've claimed the bottom of it as their brave new world. You turn on the hot water to mercilessly drown the entire civilization.

Bro bites the nape of your neck. The glass slips through your noodly fingers and cracks all the way up the side when it hits the bottom of the sink.

His laughter comes from right behind you. "Better than I thought you'd do, little man."

"Thanks," you say. Your voice comes out shaky and thin and spoils your effort at keeping cool but whatever, not the first time and not the last. Bro's sliding his arms around you, going for the buttons of your jeans. You suck in a sharp breath, your stomach going hollow, and his hands go still.

"You still got some work to do, though," he says. "Don't stop on my account."

You curse in your head where he can't hear you. He's not moving, though, and you really, really want him to. You scrape together enough brain cells and coordination to set the cracked glass aside and fish for the next handful of silverware, and Bro finishes unbuttoning you. He slides your jeans and your boxers down as you scrub forks clean. His fingers trail up the underside of your dick as you dump more stuff in the dish drainer, then back down to cup your balls and squeeze just a tiny bit. You whine.

"Almost done," he says. "Got something nice for you when you finish up." In your peripheral vision one of his gloves hits the floor. You shift your stance, spreading your legs a little, because you know what that means. _Something nice_ is his dick. (It's always his dick.)

You hear the crinkle and tear of a lube packet and try your best not to pay attention. You are so going to get these last couple of bowls clean and not drop anything. Bro's fingers slide wet through the crack of your ass and you maybe breathe a little harder but you stay on task, you do. Two more goddamn bowls. Bro pushes.

You do groan helplessly as his fingers press into you, and for a second you just hold still and try to get yourself back under control. You want to push back, rock onto his hand, give up on paying attention to anything but him. But that's not how this game works. He's made it pretty clear what the rules are.

You rinse that first bowl and his fingertips find your joybutton, stroking you inside so your dick jumps against your stomach. Fuck, he's going to wreck you. For a second you just hold onto the edge of the sink and pant, until he pulls his fingers almost all the way out and stops moving.

"Fuck," you say. "Right, I got this." You get back to work and so does Bro, and you do the last of your chores while shamelessly panting over the fact that you're getting fingerfucked to within an inch of your life.

You're pretty sure this is not how chores go in ordinary kids' houses.

"Okay, _please_ ," you say as you stuff the last bowl into the rack. "Come on, Bro, give it to me, you know I want it, please."

"Well, I guess you've earned a little something," he says, this obnoxious fake thinking-about-it drawl, and this time you do squirm back onto his fingers to try to convince him to get with the program.

"I don't want a _little_ something," you say, because flattering a dude about his dick size never hurts, right? "I want your dick up my ass."

"Tch," Bro says. "Whoever raised you must be ashamed of that mouth."

"Yeah, I'm sure he loses sleep over it all the time." Bro smacks your ass and you yelp, but whatever, because he's taking his fingers out and that means it's time to move on to the main event. You arch your back, your ass jutting out impudently, and you are so impatient the fifteen seconds it takes for him to lube up feel like forever.

The fat slippery head of his dick nudges up against your hole and then he pushes, stretching you out wide around it and filling you up. Your moan sounds about as desperate as you feel, and you grip the edge of the sink with both hands so you can push yourself back onto him.

"Fuck, that's right," he says. "Give it to me nice and easy like that. Sweet little hole, and it's mine whenever I want it, isn't it? Never too busy to drop what you're doing and bend over for me."

"Jesus, Bro," you pant. Your dick throbs and you're pretty sure if you touched it you'd just go off right now. He's right about you, you're completely fucked up for him. Any way he wants you, any time he wants you, you'd give it up for him.

He wraps both hands around your hips and drives into you hard, and you take it. You get _done_. He tells you you're good, tells you he's proud of you, how well you've learned, how good you are at keeping up with him. Your cheeks burn from the sweet-talking and you're glad he's fucking you from behind so he won't see how flustered you get. He must know. He knows basically everything. But if he's not actually watching you lose your cool, you can pretend it's not happening, pretend you really are as good as he says.

"You want to come," he says, that flat tone that might be a question but probably isn't, and you answer anyway because hell, why wouldn't you.

"Yeah, I do, I really do, you make it feel so good," you say. He makes your dialogue stupid and inane, and you can only hope he takes that as a compliment.

"You want my help?" Actually a question that time.

"Please," you say. "Please, Bro, it's better when you do it, _fuck_ ," and that last part is when he wraps a hand around your dick. It's the one that still has the glove on, and the roughness makes you whine, your nerves jangling and your everything hot and sensitive. You buck into his hand, fucking yourself on him, your hands white-knuckled on the rim of the sink. He takes you _apart_ , his hand and his dick and his breath hot on the back of your neck, and you come so hard everything goes blurry and full of stars.

Bro snaps his hips up hard, thrusting into you for another agonizing minute before he goes still with a grunt and his dick pulses in your ass. He says nothing, but his hand on your hip relaxes, one finger at a time. Your heart rate slows gradually, and at some point before it's really back to normal he pulls out. 

You lean back. He's still there, which is cool. You can never tell when he's going to be in the mood for a little postcoital bro-cuddling and when he's just going to bail immediately. You like it when he goes this way, but you know he's weird about physical contact sometimes. He does it for you anyway. Your Bro is basically the best that way.

Ordinary kids don't know what they're missing.


End file.
